


Decaf

by flourishandblotts



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Cute Dan Howell/Phil Lester, Dan Howell/Phil Lester Comfort, I have no idea what I'm doing, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Sad Phil Lester, YouTuber Phil Lester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 17:41:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10701894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flourishandblotts/pseuds/flourishandblotts
Summary: "Phil needs to kill himself"Phil's eyes locked on the message in the comment section of the live stream. He felt the twisting gut-punch of the words immediately, and the room began to spin as his blood slowly turned to ice. On any other occasion, Phil would have talked to Dan about exactly what had happened as soon as the camera had switched off.But today, he held his tongue.





	Decaf

_"Phil needs to kill himself"_

Phil's eyes locked on the message in the comment section of the live stream. He felt the twisting gut-punch of the words immediately, and the room began to spin as his blood slowly turned to ice. He glanced sideways at Dan to see if he had noticed, hoping that he hadn't heard his breath hitch in his chest, but his eyes were focused on his phone as he scrolled to find a tweet he had been talking about.

"Here it is," Dan said to the camera with a gleeful chuckle. "Right, so this was all Louise's doing…"

The ringing in Phil's ears drowned out the rest of the sentence, and he allowed himself to gaze blankly at the screen. _He hadn't seen._ Phil swallowed as he felt his palms begin to sweat, his breathing becoming shallower and threatening to give him away. The two had sat down together to film a live stream before they headed off to host their weekly radio show – mostly to pass time, but also because it had been a while since either of them had been live. On any other occasion, Phil would have talked to Dan about exactly what had happened as soon as the camera had switched off.

But today, he held his tongue.

He knew that it was a bad idea to trouble Dan before a radio show; he seemed confident enough in front of the camera, but Phil could see the tension seizing in his shoulders as the nerves settled in. Besides, neither of them needed the distraction. It was already difficult enough to balance the hosting whilst bearing in mind that they were being streamed.

"…and then Phil replied, but it was _literally_ just – what was it again?" came Dan's voice through the fog. Phil looked at him quickly, trying to act normal, before looking at the phone Dan was holding in front of his face.

"Oh – yeah," Phil began, testing his voice and trying to keep the tremble out of his words. "It was a picture of a mongoose."

Dan raised his eyebrows exasperatedly and shook his head gently with a smile. He looked back at the camera and shrugged.

"This guy," he said fondly.

Dan's voice subdued as the ringing in Phil's ears took over and the words from the screen bored into his mind. He barely registered what was happening for the remainder of the live stream, smiling wanly only when nudged by Dan. Dan was hilarious and captivating as always, and Phil silently thanked him for his innate ability to hold an audience.  
After signing off the live stream and closing the app, Dan let out a sigh of relief and stretched his arms above his head, grinning.

"I love a good live stream." he sighed. Phil watched as he checked the time on his phone before hauling himself out of the crease in the sofa.  
"We have about forty minutes before we have to leave," he mused aloud. "I think I'm gonna have a quick shower before we go, I feel pretty gross."

Phil nodded slightly. Using the arm of the sofa, he gently pulled himself to his feet and slipped one hand inside the front pocket of his hoodie. Feigning tiredness, he wiped the other hand across his eyes.

"Sounds good. I might see if I can power-nap," he lied, adding a faux yawn for authenticity. He didn't know if Dan would buy it, but he could try.

The briefest flicker of concern flashed in Dan's eyes before he rolled them sarcastically, turning on his heel in the direction of the bathroom.

"Just don't sleep for ten hours," he teased.

\--

Phil shuddered at the cold breeze whipping across his cheeks as they made their way to the tube, feeling all-too-exposed and all-too nervous in the silver light outside. He drew further and further into himself. He had been careful not to let his façade slip in front of Dan, but it was difficult; after living together for years, the pair had come to read the nuances and falters in each other's moods with ease. The hastened walk towards the station drew them through winding crowds and luckily, there wasn't much chance for conversation.

The truth was, Phil had spent the last half an hour spaced out in his room, staring at the ceiling, thumbing at the frayed hem on his sleeve. The events from the Livestream whirred around his head so quickly and sickeningly that he'd given himself a tension headache, which he was still nursing. At any rate, the pain in his temples was a good distraction from the ever-sinking feeling in his chest and stomach.

The underground was packed, and the carriage they were on quickly filled with people. Phil gave up his seat for an elderly woman, bowing slightly as she thanked him profusely. Standing near the doorway, he looped his hand across the overhead bar, leant back against a cushioned panel and sighed. The hum of the carriage and the swaying motion of the tube that usually lulled and soothed him was making his stomach churn. Eyes grazing across the carriage, he took in the different people around them.

Among the suits and ties, there was Dan, hands half-hidden inside the sleeves of his black sweater, rhythmically tapping his fingers across his knees and thighs. There was a man with skin the colour of caramel dressed in a white shirt and blue denim, laughing and playing the alphabet game with a young girl clinging to his hip. In front of the next pairs of doors stood a pair of girls with shockingly, gorgeously bright hair, holding hands softly.

 _It could be anyone,_ Phil thought with a pang. _Anyone could have sent that. Anyone here. Anyone anywhere._

He shuffled as the tube halted and the doors opened at the next stop. The familiar mass of moving bodies jostled against him, the rustle of clothes filling in the static space between the tube announcements and the chatter of the crowd. He wondered what the chances were that he was the only person that day who had been told to kill himself. That he was useless. That he wasn't worth enough.

He felt a prickling sensation behind his eyes and shut them tightly, breathing deeply. Phil's eyes remained shut for the rest of the journey.

\--

 The radio show was difficult.

Live on air, Phil f0und that his words clogged his throat and he stuttered through each sentence, barely knowing where it was going to end up once he started. Under the desk, his fingers trembled, carefully hidden from view of the camera. He busied himself with pretending to read through notes and adjusting the screen, cleaning fluff from the pop shield of the microphones – anything to make him look engaged.

As Dan opened up a speech on gender equality – something that he had been discussing frequently in his live streams – Phil took the opportunity to open Twitter on his phone. It was something he and Dan often did when looking for audience participation. Tapping in the hashtag of their show into the search bar, his screen was suddenly flooded with hundreds upon thousands of comments.

And they were all about him.

_@danisnotonfire is phil okay???_

_@AmazingPhil you don’t seem yourself, is everything alright?_

_watching #danandphil stream…does anyone else think Phil looks upset?_

Phil shoved his phone deep into his pocket as his knees shook and eyes stung. _Shit._ The last thing he needed was for their entire audience to worry about him. He couldn’t even act okay for a fucking few hours. Maybe he was as worthless as everyone made him out to be.

“Phil needs to kill himself.” He saw the words flash behind his eyelids as he blinked, each syllable burning into his mind, needle-sharp stabs of pain accompanying them.

 _Kill yourself Phil,_ his brain chorused. _Kill yourself. Phil. Kill yourself._

Phil noticed how the words seemed to warp and rhyme and he squeezed his eyes shut against the roaring cacophony.

_Kill yourself Phil. Kill. Phil. Kill. Phil._

_Kill Phil Kill Phil Kill Phil Kill Phil Kill Phil –_

“Phil?”

It was Dan that had been calling him. His voice shook Phil from his reverie and he felt his eyes snap open. He blinked rapidly as he looked at Dan, who had dropped his headphones to hang around his neck; a sign that they were momentarily off the air.

“Are you okay?” Dan asked worriedly. Phil watched as deep brown eyes flitted over his features.

“I- I’m fine,” he stuttered. Dan chewed gently on his bottom lip as he furrowed his brow. Straightening up, Phil looked down at the desk and realised that he had been grasping the control panel so hard that his knuckles were white. He slowly released his grip, massaging the indents left in his fingers.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Phil answered shortly. He was all too aware that they were still on camera. Tugging his headphones from his head, he turned back to Dan, his hands trembling.

“I just feel a bit sick. I’m gonna run to the bathroom,” he explained quickly. He stretched up to meet the eyes of the manager sat watching them through the window and mouthed to him. The manager looked down at his wrist, then nodded at Phil and held up three fingers, indicating that he had three minutes before they were back on air. Phil gave a thumbs up before carefully setting his headphones on the desk and quickly ducking out of the door.

Once in the corridor, Phil ran a shaky hand through his hair as he made his way to the toilets. Each step he took was slow and deliberate. Reaching the toilet, he slipped into a cubicle and locked the door before slumping to the floor, legs curled underneath him and arms over his head. The cold tiles and air conditioning were welcoming as Phil felt a wave of clammy sweat wash over his body. He pushed his knuckles into his mouth as he suppressed a sob. Phil allowed himself to stay like this for a minute or so, rocking back and forth slightly as he fought back tears.

“Come on, Philip,” he muttered to himself around his fist. He slapped himself with his free hand, willing the feeling to give way to numbness so he could at least get his act together for the camera. The sharp smack of skin-on-skin echoed through the empty restroom. Phil took his hand from between his clenched teeth and yanked a sheet of paper towel from the dispenser above him.

“Fuck,” he whispered weakly, wiping the tears from his eyes. Pulling himself to his feet, he tossed the ball of paper into the toilet bowl as he swung open the cubicle door. He turned on the cold tap at the nearest sink and splashed his face repeatedly with the water. He consulted the mirror closely: red eyes and tear-stained cheeks stared back at him. Fighting the urge to cry again, Phil splashed his face one more time before stepping back out into the cold light of the corridor.

Phil skimmed around the control table and had barely slipped his headphones back onto his head before Dan was announcing the name of the song that had just played. He flashed Phil a worried look as he spoke, one that he knew the camera wouldn’t pick up. Phil shrugged in response, turned his head to the microphone, and spoke as if nothing had ever happened.__

\--

"Phil, is s-"

Phil didn't stay around long enough to hear the rest of Dan's question. As soon as they had made it through the front door of their apartment, he had taken the stairs two at a time and practically raced into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Alone, Phil balled his hands into fists and finally broke down. He felt the edge of his bed hit his knees as he sobbed and he wrestled back the duvet and fell onto the mattress. Curling up into a ball, he pulled a pillow over his face to muffle his voice and screamed. He screamed and cried and cursed until his throat was raw and his eyes were stinging. He screamed until he couldn't breathe. He screamed until he could scream no more. Then, he just stared at the wall in silence, tears continuing to spill from his eyes.

After ten minutes or so, there was an almost inaudible creak as the bedroom door crept open and a familiar weight settled itself at the bottom of Phil's bed.

"Phil?" came Dan's soft voice. Phil rolled further onto his side to avoid his housemate seeing his swollen red eyes.

"Has something happened?"

Phil allowed the question to fall to silence. He inhaled and exhaled deeply, digging his fingernails into his thighs. He felt his mouth open and close as he tried to form a sentence but to no avail.

"Hey, come on Philly. You can tell me," Dan pleaded, resting a hand on Phil's foot.

Silence.

Then Phil spoke.

"…someone told me to kill myself." he mumbled hoarsely into his pillow.

"What? I didn't h-"

"Someone told me to kill myself. In the live stream." Phil said, loud enough for Dan to hear him this time. Emotionally and physically exhausted, he found that he didn't care enough to keep the hurt out of his voice.

Dan hissed through his teeth and swore violently.

"Fuck, Phil," he began. "Why didn't you say anything? Did you think it would upset me?"

"No," Phil said wearily. He ran a hand across his eyes. "Well – yeah. I didn't want you to distract you from the radio show. I know how nervous it makes you, and-"

"But it was distracting you!" interrupted Dan. Phil groaned and sighed again, this time with frustration.

"I _know_ Dan. But you didn't need that to bring you down. I didn't need to bring you down. I didn't need to tell you that I couldn't get it out of my head, that it was making me feel sick, that it was making me feel worthless, that m-"

Phil stopped, realising that he had raised his voice and was visibly crying again. He dropped to a shaken whisper.

"Maybe they're right." He let the words tumble out of his mouth into the thick air. They settled around him in the silence, littering both his and Dan's ears like curses. Phil heard Dan breathe out slowly, then felt the mattress dip as he shuffled over to lie next to Phil. A warm arm slipped around him above the duvet and he felt breath tickling his ear.

"…you prick," Dan said as he squeezed Phil's elbow gently, the latent anger ebbing from his voice. "Why listen to them? What were they, like, twelve?" he jeered. Phil sniffed and felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips. He knew this was Dan's way of cheering him up. He shifted slightly so he wasn't so hunched over; Dan took this as an invitation to continue.

"I mean anyway, what would you leave _me_ for? How would you trust me with the gaming channel? I can't even look after myself, let alone _Dil_ – with you gone Dab would be taken, Tabitha would run away with Bob and aliens would be simultaneously probing and repopulating the entire universe!" he exclaimed. Phil chuckled and brushed the hot tears from his cheeks.

"Thank you, Dan," he said quietly. Dan squeezed his elbow again by way of response.

"It's alright mate, honestly. If you ask me I'd say they were just jealous. I mean, you're the _Amazing Phil_ ," he drawled, waving his hand dramatically. Catching Phil's eye, he winked. He gave Phil's shoulder a comforting squeeze before rolling away, the warmth of the room quickly dissipating as he left without a word. Phil turned onto his back and gazed at the ceiling blankly. The gentle clink of porcelain carried itself on the air from the kitchen, alongside the bang of cupboard doors and the faint smell of ground coffee. A few minutes later, Dan returned, setting a steaming mug of coffee on the bedside table closest to Phil.

"Tha-" Phil began, but Dan was already gone again, leaving the door ajar. He sighed. Phil struggled into an upright position and took the mug into his hands, relishing in the warmth. Bowing his head against his hands, he barely noticed Dan slip into the room carrying his laptop in one hand and a mug of hot chocolate in the other. He set the laptop down on Phil's lap and opened the corner of his duvet, inviting himself into Phil's bed and shuffling over until they sat shoulder-to-shoulder. Phil looked at the time in the corner of Dan's laptop screen and frowned.

"Why did you give me coffee at this time of night?"

"It's decaf," Dan replied, smiling. "I know that warm drinks calm you down."

His voice was low and soft as he spoke into the quiet night. Phil watched as he took the laptop from his lap and opened the browser, default-clicking to YouTube. His slender fingers deftly tapped over the keyboard and the sound comforted Phil, reminding him of the hours spent watching Dan edit in the office. He looked up at the screen at what Dan had searched and immediately grinned.

"Haven't we watched enough sloth videos?" he asked, hearing an edge of humour make its way into his voice.

"We haven't watched them _all_ , Phil, so _no_ , we _haven't_ watched enough," Dan laughed. "Oh oh oh oh – Phil, look, this sloth's having a _bath!_ " he cooed. He clicked on the thumbnail of the video and opened it to full screen, picking up his drink and snuggling down next to Phil. Phil sipped his coffee, the velvety taste spreading across his tongue, and laid his head gently on top of Dan's as he watched the baby sloth on the screen have his tummy scrubbed. The pair giggled together, setting the hour-long playlist to autoplay.

And that is how Phil Lester fell asleep – with visions of baby sloths dancing in front of his drooping eyes, the soft heat of Dan's skin against his, and love in his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> uhhhhhhhhhhh so i've kind of never written anything on here before, let alone written a fanfic in general - unless you count the sonic the hedgehog one i wrote when i was like eleven. i'm kind of not sure what i'm supposed to write in these notes but basically i've been reading (and enjoying) way too many dan/phil fics lately and i had the urge to start writing again, and this is based off something i remember happening a while ago where i think someone said phil didn't smile for the entire radio show after someone told him to kill himself, which broke my heart to be honest.
> 
> i don't know, i'm really not sure if this is any good or not, i'm completely rusty but i just wanted to write a little short something, so enjoy!


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